Triplicate
by Complicity
Summary: She stalks down the corridor with her eyes fixed ahead, fists clenched tightly and mind focused entirely on her destination.
1. Awake

**A/N Hello all! My first venture into Holby fiction, for a few years at least! And certainly on these boards. This should be about a 3-4 parter, do let me know how it shapes up! Sarah.**

Triplicate.

Part 1. Awake.

For the past few days he's been kidding himself that this is an entirely professional excursion. A patient is in need and he had to contact one of the only two pioneering transplant centres outside of London, for the sake of Mr Ellison. Even as a GP in Cumbria he couldn't see a patient die without hope when he only had to flex his status to get a slot with the best team in the country. The opportunity had presented itself when he'd stumbled across a journal article singing the praises of a groundbreaking domino procedure at none other than Holby City.

He made the arrangement before he had time to consider his true motivation, let alone that Edinburgh had a similar centre far closer. In fact he can almost convince himself Jac didn't cross mind at all until he received a call from Holby's transplant coordinator and the wheels rolled into motion with alarming speed. Then, travelling at 120mph on a late night cross country service to the south west, he finally has time to think.

For most of the time that Joseph had known Jac Naylor she had remained a complete and unarguable enigma to himself and everybody else around him. There were of course moments of clarity, when every now and then he'd imagine he could see exactly why she'd done or said what she had. These cropped up all too often in their blissful early relationship, and eventually he came to see that every moment he spent with her then was overridden by her inability to trust him. Only in his last few weeks in Holby had he really began to understand her, and as he did it was as if she unravelled before his eyes. When she first confessed her feelings he had been taken aback, but at last filled with a sense of pride that this woman, so emotionally unfathomable, had finally laid herself bare before him.

It was as if she finally made sense in every single way, and to this day he has complete confidence that he must understand her and be capable of caring for her better than anybody else. It's not a modest claim, sure, and he checks himself as he ponders the possibilities this visit could behold. He has to actively remind himself that it is of course only a visit, and in 48 hours he is returning to his home, and his son.

The 0039 arrives into Holby Parkway with pleasing punctuality, rumbling into the station with an automated accompaniment, waking his fellow passengers and only serving to widen his own red rimmed eyes. He steps out into the station on autopilot, next stop taxi rank, then hotel, and an inevitably sleepless night of anticipation.

**oooo**

As it transpires Jac is not the sort of woman you can fall asleep with, tired and satisfied with limbs entangled, perhaps an arm draped protectively over her milky stomach. Perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised. She only let him fall asleep in her on call room at all because this particular dalliance came off the back of a tough eighteen hour day for them both, and their eyes had begun to close before their chests stopped heaving.

For Jonny, that blissful harmony didn't even last an hour. His cruel awakening was in the form of a particularly sharp wrist to the face, jolting him dizzily back into reality. His first conscious thought was that of the completeness with which her incredible hair had obscured his vision.

He's overwhelmed by the smell of sweet coconut shampoo as he wipes a mouthful of her soft tresses from his face and sits up, alert. He has never before had the privilege of seeing somebody so unbelievably asleep. It could keep a person awake just to watch, even if that person didn't have an ulterior motive. (That being her pleasingly approachable unconscious body.)

Her hair truly is splayed across the bed in every direction, and as he's shifted himself upright against the headboard much of it lies across his left thigh. She doesn't seem to go more than five minutes without rolling over, wriggling, or uttering the occasional murmur. It's nigh on adorable. Another fifteen and she slides across the pillow, her head coming to rest against his hip. Her right hand falls backwards to lean tantalizingly close to his groin. He smirks, can't help but feel a bit dirty as he responds to her innocent move by gently stroking her hair. Damn, that hair, he could fall for that hair.

Jonny has never danced with insomnia before, and as he turns the possibility of his feelings for Jac over in his mind he starts to regret his initial pleasure at the current situation. He's half stunned if truth be told, that after all their macho game play and mutual assurance that this 'relationship' is only physical, he finds that he'd be happy to watch her sleep until dawn with a cramp in his neck.

Fallen; Well and truly felled. Knocked sideways and trodden on.

**oooo**

A student nurse called Emma rolls over in bed and, for the umpteenth time that night, succumbs to the display on her alarm clock; 04:53am. She sighs in exasperation, as in not less than three hours she'll be walking into the front entrance of Holby City Hospital to start a placement on their acute admissions unit. She's been determined to excel ever since she first saw the allocation list. This is what she's been working towards for months and she's certain all that studying will pay off.

Of course, she's also chewed up with fear. The reasons for that, however, stretch far deeper than those of any other nervy new girl.


	2. Coffee & Conversation

**A/N Hi all, thankyou for the lovely reviews, I really appreciate it xx. I'm enjoying being in Holby domain it has to be said, my keyboard can tap away endlessly so good news all round! Part 2 cometh r&r's adored x Sarah**

2. Coffee & Conversation.

"Good Morning!" An unnaturally chirpy voice drags Jac from her slumber, and she opens her eyes to see her glorified booty call pulling his scrub top over his head.

"Is it? Who authorized that?" She yawns and gathers the duvet around her, identifying items of clothing strewn across the cramped room and grabbing for them each in turn. It doesn't take too long for her to dress, shove her hair into a ponytail and push him away from the mirror so she can inspect the bags beneath her eyes. She feels quite self conscious, in fact, and tries not to imagine him seeing her sleep. It doesn't take them long to gather their belongings and escape into the corridor, an on call room has a habit of feeling quite claustrophobic in the cold morning light.

"What were you still doing in my room, by the way?"

"What were you still doing there? It's quarter to eight."

"What? Did you turn off -" She reaches for her iphone and glowers at it, alarm set to silent. "Make yourself useful and get me a coffee, then."

"No chance! I don't drink the stuff. It's actually bad for you." If looks could kill...

"Never mind, text from Valentine," She flashes him her phone, "there's a Latte on my desk and I'm going to get it."

"You have that kid pretty whipped."

"Well, I haven't told him he's in on this afternoon's procedure yet. The sucking up is, you know, fun for me."

"The case flying down from Cumbria?"

"Of course."

"My procedure?"

"You're getting a bit big for your boots there Nurse. Your girlfriend may be a valuable consult but even she's accepted it's time to sit back, eat cookies, and do my paperwork for the foreseeable. Then there's Prof Hope, a bit too preoccupied holding hands with F1's to notice anything interesting cropping up. As a Consultant on Darwin I'd say the word is shotgun."

"Actually, the GP coming down with the patient is fairly set on assisting. Quite an influential guy apparently."

"Right, sure, just let me get the door for some provincial moron. Valentine has potential, I've built something there."

"The provincial moron you speak of may not be so easy to put down, you've seen his name on the list?"

"I have better things to do actually, please enlighten me."

"I've heard he was a CT registrar,"

"Was, as in used to be, as in you used to be a staff nurse."

"And he's called Mr Bryne, as in Lord Byrne, as in Bryne Foundation. Capiche?"

**oooo**

"Hi Persephone. No, I'm just arriving now. I've received a direct call from the flight actually, there were some complications on the trip. Nausea, some blood in his vomit. It's something we'll have to assess. No, I think it'll be manageable, we're in the right place. They're taking him straight to AAU, I'll be in touch when I know more. Listen thanks again for holding the fort, make sure you call me if you need anything. Yep, bye."

For some massively unfathomable reason the suit on the phone comes to an unprecedented stand still about three feet into the front door of the hospital as he hangs up. Emma reacts as fast as she can, screeching and saving her skinny latte from certain death, instead sacrificing the notebook from under her left arm as she crashes into him less than elegantly. Papers scatter accordingly, and she winces as the one with the artistic depiction of a monkey in tails lands face up at his feet. He spins around and, to add insult to injury, he's quite hot actually.

"Gosh I am sorry, here, let me help." They both kneel down and begin gathering her notes, he passes her the monkey. "Well, that's not bad if you don't mind me saying."

"God they're not all, I mean, they're my study notes. I don't usually draw monkeys. Not that you care about, um, it's my first day actually. I hope you're not somebody important! I mean, I don't mean, sorry. I'm a bit nervous." He smiles, but he certainly seems distracted. Emma tucks her fiery red locks behind her ears and decides to start over. They both stand. "Actually what I meant to say, Dr-"

"Mr Bryne."

"What I meant to say, Mr Bryne, is could you point me towards the Acute Admissions Unit?" She lifts her chin as she addresses him, and perhaps it's just the situation, being back at Holby, but by god she reminds him of Jac. It takes him slightly too long to answer and she averts her eyes, feels a fool.

"Of course I can Miss-"

"Burrows."

"Miss Burrows, I'm heading there myself. I'll accompany you."

**oooo**

The simultaneous trill of their pagers has both Jonny and Jac fumbling for their belt loops, cutting short the uncomfortable silence that had followed his revelation.

"AAU." She speaks unusually quietly, her mind elsewhere.

"Snap! The great northern heart problem must have arrived. Come on then Naylor, put the latte on standby." They turn on their heels and strut purposefully in the opposite direction. Jac inhales sharply, five seconds is not enough to digest the news that Joseph's in town. Now she's marching towards where he'll undoubtedly be, perfectly coifed and prepared to see her, and she hasn't even had a coffee to soften the rough edges of a night in the on call room, and yesterday's wrinkled scrubs.

**oooo**

Mr Bryne holds the door for Emma as they enter the unit and she smiles, she's heard plenty of rumours about senior surgeons and she doesn't remember chivalry being mentioned. "Welcome to AAU. Good luck Miss Burrows." She turns to thank him but his attention is already elsewhere, a patient on the other side of the ward who's already surrounded by four or five staff members. "Nurse Burrows?" The next thing she knows he's laying his briefcase in her arms, then his jacket, and it's all she can do to balance her latte precariously atop the pile as he turns away, rolling up his sleeves. He must be a surgeon after all then.

Jac arrives on the scene with a certain panache, leaving her colleague to catch the door in her wake. "Chantelle, where's my patient?"

"Bed five." She delivers her answer swiftly and with a smile, earning herself a set of raised eyebrows from the formidable Naylor and an appreciative wink from Jonny. Emma can only stare open mouthed at the scene as she staggers towards the friendly looking girl who relieves her of the coffee and the jacket. "Hiya, you're Emma?"

"Yep."

"Oh, you look so nervous! Don't worry, doctors can be a bit rude but they don't mean it, they're just really focused on the patients. It can get quite busy that's all, and you just need to tell them exactly what they need to hear. If Miss Naylor's been paged of course, you need to know it ten minutes ago."

"She's intense." Emma can't suppress a smile.

"Yeah, and I wouldn't look so excited about it if I were you. Okay, so you're supposed to report to Chrissie,"

"Sister Williams?"

"She's over there with Mr Ellison at the moment. I'll show you the staff room, I'm not sure if there's a locker but you can put your bag in mine for now. Is this your first placement?"

**oooo**

"Mr Ellison has been suffering from breathing difficulties since the helicopter landed. He's on 100% oxygen and fluids to replace what he lost from the vomiting, which has since subsided. Welcome back to Holby Joseph."

"Thankyou Chrissie. So George, rough journey, how are you feeling?"

"What happens next?"

"We have to run some tests, try to keep the mask on, and I'll be back in a few hours to talk you through the procedure."

"It's like some bloke's sat on me lungs. It never felt like that before."

"Well sure," The familiar voice chirps up from behind Joseph, "You need a heart bypass and you've been dragged halfway across the country. Hang in there, I'm sure all is about to be explained." Joseph turns to see her standing at the foot of the bed, Mr Ellison's file open in her hands. She's not reading it that carefully, just avoiding his eye line. Her hair is thrown up and she isn't wearing any makeup, he smiles; perfect.

"Jac. George, this is Miss Naylor-"

"CT Consultant. Mr Bryne, a word?"

"Of course."

Jonny tries to reserve making any kind of judgement as he surveys the pair, it stinks of history and he's sure he can bribe a Ward Sister to fill him in later. Instead he says nothing as they depart with a subdued kind of understanding, and he turns his attention to George Ellison.

**oooo**

"Great desk, I like what you've done with the place. I didn't hear for sure about the promotion."

"That's because you didn't call."

"Neither did you."

"That's true." She pauses to take a seat behind her desk, and tests the long awaited coffee which, of course, is cold. He plays with the idea of taking a seat on the sofa, dithers, and all at once feels like the unconfident registrar facing the scrutiny of the formidable Beauchamp. "Memories, hey?" Her tone is unusually soft and he nods, pleased to find they can still read each other so well.

"I have missed you Jac. I have wanted to call."

"So you brought me a 65 year old man who is, by all accounts, dying." She places his notes firmly on the desk before her.

"Not if I can help it." He counter offers a thick printed report, and she glances forward at the title.

"You want to perform a coronary bypass on a beating heart?"

"You've read up on it then. Well?"

"Well, I thought the catch was an endoscopic procedure."

"That too. What do you think?"

"Macho unnecessary risk. I think you've been out of this game too long."

"George Ellison doesn't qualify for the regular procedure. He has a longstanding heart defect, this isn't down to smoking, or drinking too much, and the Consultant in Carlisle decided he wouldn't survive bypass. The man came back to see me, and he pleaded for my help. I'd just read a journal article about the domino performed here last month, and I suppose I remembered what it was like to be able to take a risk. Considered, obviously, ethically and professionally with the resources to back it. Jac please, just look at the case. The TECAB procedure provides the patient with the best chance of survival and continued quality of life. If you decide otherwise I'll drop it."

"Fine." She holds her hand out and he passes her the report. It's quickly clear that neither of them know what else to say and he turns his back with a heavy heart. "Joe," She stands, not quite able to let him leave her office on that note.

"Yes?"

"So I suppose you have a hotel room in town. Is Harry with you?"

"He's at home, staying with a kindergarten friend."

"Then, would you take me out to dinner tonight? No work, and definitely no strings or expectations. Just dinner."

**oooo**

For Emma, the morning seems to be taking a downward spiral. A 'Dr Hemmingway' appears to be just dandy at doling out the criticism, not so much with the instruction. By 11am, after a particularly fantastic tequila-spew by a fifteen year old with a head injury, she finds herself biting back tears in the staff room as she rummages through a box of clean scrubs. Chantelle, fortunately, is paying special attention to the new recruit.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, fine." She keeps her back turned to the blonde as the first fat tears take her eyeliner by storm.

"Hey, we're both due a 10 anyway, you can talk to me you know?" The girl's sugary nature is the final straw and, wiping her cheeks, she turns to face Chantelle.

"It's not what you think. It's actually pretty stupid."

"Yeah? Cause I cried on my first student placement and that was because my rabbit was sick and I thought I was a complete failure. It turns out I'm tonnes better with people than animals. Here, have a Sherbert dip dab and tell me what's up." Emma willingly accepts the stick of licorice and takes a seat next to her new friend.

"I just don't know what to do, I thought this would be great. I was so excited, but I can't seem to do right for doing wrong and the whole bloody reason for my being here is utterly futile if I'm not going to speak to her. Now I'm not even sure if I'd be here, trying to be a nurse at all if it wasn't for that reason."

"Emma, breathe!"

"It's not that I haven't wanted to do this forever. As a kid, when I lived with my Mum in a sanctuary in India, I'd see sick kids that needed help all the time. We were pretty rural and doctors were pretty hard to come by. She's a kind of spiritual healer, inner peace and all that, which to be honest I think is total hippy bollocks. I just enjoyed looking after the people that stayed with us. I always assumed I'd come to England to train and then go back home and use my skills, the qualification, to make a difference. Then two years ago my Mum got sick and everything changed. She went through some stuff, and she was fairly upset for a while so I never really talked to her about what I felt, but I should have." A fresh wave of tears threaten, and she gulps as the heat prickles her cheeks.

"Wow, for the first time in a year I really miss my Mum, Chantelle."

"She's still in India?"

"Yep. It's her home, I doubt she'll ever leave again. She's pretty stuck in the mud on that one. Me, I've wanted to come and live here since I discovered I had a half sister I didn't know about. That probably sounds a bit mad, but my whole life has been a bit mad so far. I only saw her once, when my Mum was sick, but straightaway I knew I had to know her. She was this idea of normality that I'd never seen before, and she seemed lonely. I thought she'd like to know me too. I was seventeen and she was this strong independent adult, right then it seemed perfect and exciting."

"So you didn't keep in touch?"

"She wouldn't actually speak to me. She was upset, she didn't know about me either, and it hit her quite hard. You know, it's complicated."

"Always. But now, seeing your sister again is compromised by Dr Hemmingway being in a bad mood. How's that?"

"It's not that doctor, it's me. I thought I'd have the balls to speak to Jac again but I saw her this morning and I realised that's the absolute last thing I'll convince myself to do. Not because she's a bit of a bitch, but because this is her life and she's happy. More so than last time, that's for sure. I suppose I'm too scared I'll screw everything up here. I didn't come to do that."

"Wait - not Jac, as in Miss Naylor?"

**oooo**

"Damn, I left my wallet upstairs. Hey no need to look at me like that I'm not lying," Jonny pats his pockets down theatrically, "Aha, look, two quid. How much is it without the latte?"

"Allow me. A medium Cappucino as well please." He turns around to see the person behind the arm that proffers a carefully folded £10 note is none other than Mr Bryne.

"Ah, Joseph right? Thanks."

"No problem."

"I'm Jonny, we spoke on the phone."

"Yes I,"

"I had no idea about you and Naylor."

"Excuse me?"

"Quite a colourful history there, hey!"

"And on who's word is that, Jac's or nurses' gossip?"

"Okay, I'm just making conversation."

"Yes, well I don't think it's any of your business actually. Next time may I suggest bringing up the weather." Joseph's unprecedented anger takes Jonny by surprise, and he raises his own voice defiantly as the doctor turns to leave the cafe.

"Well I wish it would stop raining but I'm glad I'm sleeping with your ex. Swings and roundabouts really." True to expectation, Joseph turns back to face the nurse, mute. "I'm just about to take her a coffee, I can take those notes up as well if you like." He gestures towards the file in Joseph's grasp and holds up the drink he hadn't purchased.


	3. God, and other Sources

**A/N Hello! So thankyou guys for the story reviews, all appreciated! I've been delaying posting because I was unsure where to make the break between parts 3/4. I think it works best like this, but I'm loathed to post another bit where nothing MAJOR happens, so sorry about that. I'm having too much fun with Jac I think! Also, Lauraz pointed out to me that Jac's sister is called Jasmine in the show, so another apology from me! I failed at researching there. I'm hoping you guys won't mind me claiming that under artistic license? Enough waffle, read on x**

3. God, and other Sources.

She stalks down the corridor with her eyes fixed ahead, fists clenched tightly and mind focused entirely on her destination. One flight of stairs, two, three, four, spiralling deeper down into the hospital until at last there are no stairs left. The air in the basement has a sallow quality complimented by the age old paintwork that holds the nicotine stains of wayward staff members. These corridors are strewn with trolleys of outdated or ripped linen, and she knows them better, she fears, than the sterile environment she inhabits upstairs.

Jac takes a sharp right turn near the end of the corridor and sits down heavily on a make shift bench in a dim alcove. She certainly isn't hiding, she has more balls than that. Her back thuds defiantly against the cold rough wall and her fists finally relax. This is simply about concentrating. In that bright, busy office with umpteen distractions, Elliot's continuous presence and Joseph's imaginary stature refusing to budge from the door frame, that simply isn't possible. The words on the page had swum before her eyes whilst her fatigued mind throbbed in protest. She had to come here.

She'll admit it's partly about Joseph. He looks good, and she already regrets that they haven't taken the chance to really talk yet. All of her questions for the man she once, maybe still, truly loved are spilling from her seams. Would she actually be able to ask all those questions even if they were locked in a room together indefinitely? Probably not. Would anything have changed even if he had all the right answers? Probably not. It's the dream that will always be just out of reach, by now she can accept that.

It's all quite surreal, she could be floating above this scene looking down upon herself and not feel more detached. Should she want to cry? She certainly doesn't, an intense numbness fills her soul instead. She can remember how her insides would ache and she'd choke up with tears just thinking about Joe, and before that, the terror ripping through her veins in the early days, when she 'had' him. When it was all about control.

She let him into her life and he represented an uncountable number of emotional risks every time he opened his mouth. She could never quite calculate what to do next. The scholar inside her tested him whilst her heart looked on. She played all the games just to check that he wasn't lying when he said, 'I love you.' Because without that certainty she couldn't bear to be with him. For the first time in her life she couldn't trust her gut, she wasn't sure of herself in any decision she made about their relationship. Even the decision to love him too. In the end, he taught her more about her heart than any textbook would.

It's about trust, no matter how faulty or misguided, without anything reliable to back it up. No amount of risk assessment will help you in love and war. In an instant, she knows what she has to do about Mr Ellison.

**oooo**

Henrik Hanssen studies the surgeon who stands before him, her head held high and her evidence piled neatly on the desk before him.

"Miss Naylor, did you really think I wouldn't see beyond your request here," he gestures to the paperwork, "to what you really want?" She remains silent; it's a no-brainer. "This procedure has been performed in this way a handful of times across the globe, by very few very talented surgeons each with a passion for the progression of endoscopic heart surgery. You yourself have a passionate history with mechanical advancement in CT; I know the name Bryne has cropped up before." Inwardly, she knows he's baiting her.

"I just need your recommendation to go ahead!"

"You don't need my permission to operate and I know you're well aware of that. You have the guts, arrogance and ability to remain emotionally detached of the best."

"Ability to-"

"Consequently your capability isn't a facet of your personality that you'll be doubting so my comment would be futile. Darwin Theatre 1 is booked for 2pm I believe, that doesn't leave you long to talk to your patient and prepare." She gives him a considered nod, somehow already feeling more patronised than complimented even before the parting quip; "And Miss Naylor, next time your emotional backbone takes a morning off may I suggest Mr Levy as an appropriate sounding board. I'm not here to tell you what you think, that would make me God."

Oh yes, she knew exactly what she had to do about Mr Ellison. But with Joseph's presence mixing up her emotions she just had to... check. She cracks an honest smile en route back to the office and finds herself caught in the act.

"Having a good day, Jac?" Ollie and Elliot at the nurses' station, as ever they look as if they're conspiring.

"What can I say, we're complication free. If I were superstitious I'd be huddling under my desk by now. Valentine, walk with me."

"Your TECAB procedure this afternoon, I've been reading up and-"

"I want you to assist. The GP will be scrubbed up to observe." She spins around and leans on the door handle as she reaches her office. "On top form Oliver; Reading up better be the very least you've been doing."

The door to the office clicks shut, leaving her junior behind in the corridor. The first thing she notices is the steaming hot coffee on her desk, accompanied by the notes she'd asked Joseph for, and finally the green post-it stuck to the file, stolen from her stack.

_'Dinner would be nice, Nardini's. J x.'_

Her stomach leaps just a little more than she'd like it too, and the wry smile develops into a full grin. Her pager drags her from her reverie.

**oooo**

"Twice in one day, Nurse Lane. This better be good I have an operation to prepare for." She catches sight of Joseph on the other side of the ward, in animated conversation with his patient as the porters transfer him to Darwin. She finds herself hoping to catch his eye, to no avail of course.

"You like him." She whips back around to face the pair of nurses, the student who'd spoken in particular.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry I didn't, bed 3. Chest pains in bed 3, I paged you. Sorry Miss Naylor."

"Well, for a jumpy student on your very first day in the big hospital you don't seem to have too much trouble paging a Consultant for a problem a house officer could have dealt with. Come on." Emma follows Jac to the patient's bedside with a spring in her step. "Alex Reed? You've been experiencing chest pains?" The underage girl with black nail varnish and glitter in her hair discards the kidney dish she's been clutching mournfully as the doctor approaches.

"Lexie. And yep, just sort of here," she puts her hand to her sternum, "really hurts and my chest feels all, fluttery."

"Yes, something you've taken I imagine. Tox screen?"

"It's here." Emma passes her the page in the notes that she's already sifted out.

"Good, and it looks like I'm right. Lean forward please Lexie, I need to listen to your chest."

"Um," Emma starts to interrupt with trepidation as the scene unfolds before her. Jac gently guides the girl into a sitting position, and she gains a ghostly pallor as her back leaves the pillow. Evidently, Jac's concentrating on where she places her stethoscope on the girl's back and Emma doesn't quite get the kidney dish back in time.

"Ah, fantastic." Jac doesn't leap out of range in time and finds herself covered in the kid's hangover. "Nurse you need to order an Echocardiogram for Miss Reed and page Dr Valentine if her symptoms worsen. Think you can manage that?"

"Of course. Sorry, again." Emma quickly helps the girl to clean up before dashing opportunistically in Jac's wake. She catches up with her by the lockers, rifling through a pile of scrubs in the same manner that Emma herself had done hours earlier. "It's funny, she actually did the same thing to me this morning."

"Hilarious. Can I help you?" Jac spins around as she finds a top, carefully peeling the offending article over her head and discarding it with a sniff of distaste. Emma blinks, remembering her shyness as this woman stands before her in just a bra. As ever, the words that spill from her mouth next are the absolute least appropriate ones her psyche could summon.

"Where did you get the scar?" She knows the kidney story, sure, but she's gesturing to the right hand side of Jac's ribcage, where a neat inch long bump protrudes from her underwire. Immediately, and quite fairly, the older woman looks utterly furious. Emma wonders if she's about to be eaten alive or committed. She can feel her cheeks turning beetroot and so she blunders onwards the only way she knows how. "God, don't say anything. That was completely inappropriate. So now you're counting to ten and deciding whether or not to kill me. Please don't kill me. Most of the time I say the first thing that comes into my head and make a tit out of myself or offend somebody. I shouldn't have even paged you, but I didn't want to bother Mr Hemingway because that man is scary."

Jac's eyes narrow, hopefully subconsciously, and she puts the clean top on hastily. "Kudos on not apologising that time, it was getting annoying. If you don't think I'm scarier than Hemingway then may I suggest you haven't had an exhaustive induction. You're new, so I feel it's only fair to warn you that I will be making your life very difficult every time I get paged down here for at least the next month. If it really feeds your perverse curiosity; I crashed my motorbike and it was very nearly the last thing I ever did." Emma tries to suppress a warm smile as she moves aside to let Jac leave, unable to stop herself from holding up her right arm, wrist forward. A large jagged scar stretches from her elbow almost up to her wrist.

"I fell off a horse onto barbed wire when I was a teenager."

"I don't care."

"Cool."

**oooo**

"One of these days, I'm going to swing for someone in that god-forsaken mad-house downstairs." Elliot looks up over his reading glasses as his colleague returns to the office and the door slams theatrically.

"Good mood's gone then. Please don't beat up the patients unless you absolutely have to."

"Who said anything about patients. Speaking of which, you haven't seen Nurse Maconie have you? I need to catch up with him before theatre."

"Speaking of which...? Ah. I see, different type of patience. Very good. I haven't seen him recently, as that would imply he'd been doing some work today."

She huffs audibly; frustrated. She'll catch up with Jonny when she has to, for now, "What about Joseph?"

"Ah, I know that one. He's in the staffroom smuggling me some of Mo's Jaffa Cakes."

**oooo**

"Hey, you've been awol a while, is everything okay with Mr Ellison?"

"Fine."

"I got your note," She grins in spite of herself, moving closer to him so she can continue at an almost secretive volume, "and that sounds lovely."

"I didn't send you a note."

"Joe, the post-it, on top of the file I asked for."

"Then I imagine it's from your Nurse Friend. Nothing to do with me." His tone is sharp.

"You're kidding," She's bemused, it simply can't have been Jonny. She would never go on a date with the impertinent arse and she's certain he knows that. She's always been entirely transparent about it, for one thing.

"Look, where did we land with the op, you're going for the TECAB? I haven't heard for certain and I need to know."

"I'm on your side. You should know that by now."

"Well, it's been a long time hasn't it. Mr Ellison needs this op; You're the best surgeon for the job. Tomorrow night I'll be gone. Everything goes back to normal."

No it doesn't. She wants to shout and scream after him as he leaves but she's rooted to the spot, this one will ride past without a showdown. She takes a deep breath and puts her fears of old wounds reopening to the back of her mind. At this particular moment in time she needs to concentrate on the procedure ahead of her, no more distractions.


End file.
